What if he never admits it?

I was emailing my sister about all this and telling her that if at least he would admit what he did instead of repeating that it is all in my mind, maybe I would feel better…hurt, but at least I wouldn’t be with a coward, a cheater yes, but not a coward.  But the mere thought of him telling me that those I love you always texts mean nothing…its humiliating.  How can someone be such a coward and cruel to say something like that?

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So what happened?

Well, maybe I could just print all I blogged to my therapist…so here we go.

We met 22 and half years ago.  I was 25, he was 40…and married…and an alcoholic.  Maybe I was just young and stupid, or just plain stupid but nothing made me desist of being with him.  He wanted children (he lost 3 with his former wife), we had 2.  But even though he was always so enthusiatic about the idea of children…in reality, he doesn’t pay attention to them.

He would just come home, straight to our room, watch tv, take a shower, have about 3 beers and 3 shots every night and smoke…In all these years, it has been a cycle.  He more or less stays home and drinks…but once in a while he would start drinking more an more, stay out late, be nasty with me.  We would fight and he would stay more or less in control.

But, it would happen all over again.  An lately, this past year to be exact, it has gradually gotten worst.  He became even more distant, nasty, moody, and of course, the classic trait that every person who’s been cheated on has experience…he did’t want to have sex with me.

Uf, was that painful, because before it was perfect.  The best sex I ever had was with my husband.  But gradually he just kept more distant.  I tried different things but nothing worked.  In the end I became so frustrated, that I stopped trying.  I thought I was giving him space and time…well, he certainly took advantage of that all right.

Everytime he would come home late, I would tell him to just text me to let me know he was allright.  But he wouldn’t do it.  He just kept doing it till two weeks ago.

He came home late, reeking of alcohol and behaving completely idiotic.  Uf, I have to write later…it’s painful.

So I’m back, where was I? Ahh, okey, so he came home late, reeking of alcohol, all nasty  and of course, didn’t call or texted me.  So here I am again, telling him how simple it would all be if he just called me bla-bla-bla and he tells me that I’m suffocating him.  What? I’m suffocating him?  If I was going to be accused of something it would be almost neglect since I’m giving him all this space.  But suffocating him? Hell no.  He walks away to the kitchen and bing…he received a text.

His Iphone was charging next to where I was sitting and I looked at the screen: I’m home, it said.  I take the phone to him and he looks at the text and pretends he doesn’t know what it is about.  I asked him again and then he said the most ridiculous thing:  the lady that he had an accident earlier in the week, an old lady, was drinking with him.  What?  Why would you ask a total stranger  to have a drink with you? And he repplied, I can invite a woman to have a drink with me.  So I call the number and a young woman answer, he then starts to tell her, all nervous, that he couldn’t reach the other guy involved in the accident.  I hear the young woman say aha aha again and again and he hangs up.

I told him, that is not an old lady and it doesn’t make sense that you repeat something that supposedly you already told her over drinks.  Stop lying to me.  So what did he do?  He broke his Iphone in a million pieces, asking me again and again if that is what I wanted.  If now I’m happy that he broke his phone.  I started laughing sarcastically at him and told him that I never asked him to smash his phone. He did that all by himself. And furthermore I told him he must clean up really good.  He swore at me and told me to clean it up.

We kept arguing and he went to sleep.  I never been a fan of checking phones but that night I was determined to find out the truth.  And I did.  I checked his wallet and took a picture of the cop’s receipt of the accident (for the old lady’s phone that supposedly went out drinking with him).  I checked his work phone and there they were…the texts where his tells this woman that he loves her…that he loves her always.

That happens 2 weeks ago.  I took pictures of the texts and wow, it’s like something piercing my chest.

The next day, I called the lady from the accident.  Of course she wasn’t with him.  I called him and told him how disappointed I was that at his age he didn’t have the courage to admit that he felled in love.  He is a lier and a cheater.  And sorry if this sounds corny…he broke my heart.

 

 

 

Once upon a time…Había una vez…

Two weeks ago it just happened.  After 22 and half years, I finally had proof that my soon to be ex husband loves another.  You see, for a long time, I had the usual suspicion, but he always dismissed it as insecurity…you are just insecure he would tell me; that your inferiority complex talking.  But something happened two weeks ago that I just couldn’t dismiss my feelings any longer.  And in a weird way, it gave me comfort to finally have proof.  I’ve been hiding my feelings, my concerns for too long, I did’t trust myself since he was always claiming that he loved me and no one else.

But he doesn’t, he loves somebody else.  I’ve seen the texts, I recall the late nights, the rejection, the bad moods all the time.  I thought that if I was patient he would finally feel better, he always said that he was in a bad mood because of his stressful job, but today I realised it was because he just didn’t want to be home anymore.

But, where there is a problem, there is a solution, and since it seems that all the therapists where I live are on vacation, I decided to star a blog.  Instead of wasting my time trying to talk to him so I can understand what the hell happened, well, he won’t talk to me because apparently I’m Godzilla and I don’t want to hear what he has to say, no matter how many times and practically beg him for an explanation, so I’m blogging.